


A Prickly Situation

by rumpndump



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Bottom Miami, First Chapter Has No Smut, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Top Cop, rickcest - Freeform, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 13:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15316434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpndump/pseuds/rumpndump
Summary: No matter where he went, Cop found himself at the mercy of Miami, fuming from the snide remarks of this bumbling, buzzed prick.It simply seemed like no matter where he went, there he was–like a dingle-berry stuck to a dog’s ass, or the rotten smell to a dead corpse.Everything about the man, he hated. The pink coat - one that was meant to be a lab coat but was replaced with a coat-jacket - and that too-blue button down tucked into white slacks, all the disgusting combination of this pompous Rick. That same Rick who’s head was shoved so far up his own rectal cavity, he might as well be eating his own shit straight from the digestive tract.





	A Prickly Situation

No matter what he did, Cop found himself at the mercy of Miami—fuming from the snide remarks of that bumbling and buzzed prick.   
No matter where we went,  _he_  was there—like a dingle-berry clinging to a dog's ass, or the rotten smell lingering around a dead corpse.

Perhaps it was no secret that he truly did  _loath_ that man—from his pink coat-jacket to his too-blue button down tucked into white slacks. Those were all the gross negligible features of that pompous Rick, and polarized the very image of a Rick who's head was shoved so far up their own rectal cavity, they may as well be eating their shit straight from the digestive tract.   
Because in truth, no matter how good of a guy Miami may have been in the eyes of the citadel, there was simply  _something_ about the man that rubbed cop in all the wrong ways. He was overzealous and contemptuous, dressed to the gaudy nines, and his disregard for the English-language—how he enunciated words all while chewing on that  _stupid toothpick he chewed on-...._ Cop couldn't tolerate that type of Rick. The type that  _knew_ they were better; the kind that walked like their dick was too big for their pants, as if he should use it as a belt. 

Though these comments were reserved in his thoughts, he knew very well that some may chalk it up to sheer jealousy, even if in all actuality he simply hated the prick. If he were asked  _why_ , Cop wouldn't be able to give a reasonable answer. There was no real reason  _why_ , Miami just gave off a vibe that could easily bring Cop's blood to a boil. 

"Hey,  _Sparky_ ," Miami mused with a roll of his toothpick. "What brings you to my club again?"

"We're not at your club," Cop murmured. "I'm standing across the street running ticket numbers, Rick. You made a bee-line for me the moment one of your bouncers spotted me."

" _Ah_ ," he sighed disinterestedly, "all that training and they only have you punching tickets from parking meters?" Miami scoffed and folded his arms, checking over his nails as he said, "boy did you waste  _your time_ going to the academy. This base-line job is aimed for Morty-entry officers-  _wait!_ "   
He scoffed harshly then laughed, "wasn't your Morty a higher-ranked officer than you?"

_Oh boy did this Rick enjoy pissing Cop off._ He knew how to crawl under the man's skin, to evoke some reaction from him, and he knew it. Nothing good ever comes from d-bags like him; d-bags that know they can get away with shit like this. There's no law against a Rick being a complete ass, but it would sure make the citadel less stress-inducing if it were legal to shoot and kill the annoying bastard.  
Yet, after some moments of standing still, staring at a blank ticket sheet, Cop realized he wasn't writing anything;  _he_ _had hadn't written anything_. Miami seemed to realize this too, as a sickly wide grin only grew wider - ear-to-ear - with enthusiasm, knowing he was getting his way. 

"So-"

"I have a job to do,  _Rick_ ," Cop spat suddenly. Scribbling down a number, timestamp, and some other chicken-scratch, he slapped the half-assed ticket on a vehicle and moved on.   
Turning on his heels, Cop stormed off toward the next section of outran-meters, notepad and pen in hand as he marched. Miami, to no surprised, followed behind him—somewhat lagging along as he watched Cop through his iconic blue and pink shades. As Cop went back to jotting out tickets, he felt the eerie presence of Miami behind—eyes burrowing into the back of his skull. As if lasers burned holes straight through into his brain, frying his mind into a white, blank background of billowing smoke which then poured out of his ears, Cop felt the spark of seething rage warm his belly. 

"Hey,  _Piglet_ ," the tip of Cop's pen poked through the thin slip of paper—tearing it as he began to write. "I heard about what happened to your Morty—it's a real shame. I can't imagine what kind of beta-Rick you have to be to take orders from such a...  _law-abiding jelly roll_. I guess even Ricks like you still sit on top of the pecking order, considering what you did. Is that why they have you punching tickets instead of fighting crime?" Having not realized the white of his knuckles cracking the protective case of his pen, his ears fell deaf to the snap that timed out his broken carapace of neutrality. Cop looked up, straight ahead of his surroundings, eyes vacantly glaring out at the nothingness before him. Cars and Ricks passed on by with their Mortys, Miami's Morty peering out of the window from the club, licking his lollipop with a charismatic smile stuck on his cheeks.  
For a long passing moment, the world pinned itself into one fine point of Cop's vision, hyper-focused on the emptiness of an alleyway across from him. Before he knew it, Miami grasped his shoulder and watched Cop snap his head towards him, then catch a glimpse of his own expression in Miami's reflective shades. His red-cheeked gleam of tight skin had pulled into a quizzical and pained expression, something unreadable and incomprehensible for a Rick like Cop to have. 

For a moment, Miami almost looked surprised.

"Hey, uh..." his voice was calm as he tried to read Cop. Something in his tone hinted a sense of concern, "you're... you're really, uh... tense." Miami insinuated genuine interest in Cop's disparaged manner. And for a moment, Cop almost bought it.   
"Do you normally get like this, knowing you made that fat fuck's _jelly roll_?" 

Ink spilled over Cop's hand as the pen shattered, bleeding over the incomplete sheets of ticket paper and staining the cuff of his uniform. Had he been aware of himself, he would have found broken pieces of pen and now-ruined notepad at his feet—the same items that were quickly kicked away as he twisted around to snatch Miami by the throat. Almost immediately, Miami gagged at the abrupt feeling of his airways being crushed between the iron grasp of Cop's fingers. His own hands clasped around the Rick's wrist, pushing them away with near-desperation as his legs were driven back into a brick wall.   
The brunt force put into him meeting the hard slab of clay was enough to knock the air from his lungs, yet found it displaced in his throat as Cop's grip kept him from making any advances or expulsions alike. Through his struggle, he found the other's grip tightening, furthering the abuse done onto his neck. Miami choked beneath him, chest pulsing desperately with ache as he clawed at Cop's arm for anything to east up. His once iconic shades jutted off his face, slipping down the bridge of his nose amidst the struggle. 

Peeking an eye open, he realized Cop could see the budding tears of strain welled and spill, as Miami became overwhelmed with the need to exhale and cough. The plead only slipped through his purpling lips as his mouth fell open for a moment, trying to say anything. Nothing came out; nothing but drool that spilled over and dribbled onto Cop's long-sleeved uniform.   
Yet, it wasn't long before Miami's mind began to spin, feeling the world fall on him in a backdrop of black coating over his vision. Before he knew it, however, he was on he ground—coughing and gagging, heaving deep breaths between rasping curses and threats. 

"You fucking," he heaved, "maniac- what the hell?!  
"What the fuck is your problem?!" his fingers cradled his bruised throat, feeling dips of where the other's previous fingers had wrapped around them. 

Once his vision came to, it was there he spotted the brooding officer looming over him, eyes downcast on him with an unapologetic glare. He said nothing, did nothing; only stared down at him with a cold, heartless expression. Miami felt a chill run down his spin, telling him this would be his end. This spot, right here, in front of his own club—shuffled down into the alleyway across the street—is where he would meet death. And still, something about it befell... oddly enticing.   
This rick-diculous officer of a Rick was something out of the ordinary. He was empathetic, caring— _emotional_. Wiling to snap on a dime—this Rick was a rogue, or... something to that affect. 

"You really are a pathetic sack of shit," Cop jibed. "You walk like your dick is the biggest pendulum God made, but it's the same one the rest of us have." Miami stopped, brows furrowing with confusion as Cop continued, "if you've had any other Rick tell you they're impressed, they meant any time they take a piss.  
"But why should I be the one to tell you that?" Cop twitched, hand coming to cover his eyes as though he had a headache, "the reality is, you already know this—you're just too busy eating up the attention, you blurred the lines between compliments and obvious loads of shit Ricks spit at each other." 

Cop stepped closer to Miami,watching the man on the ground fumble somewhat backwards and still look up with some surprise as he listened to Cop rant. Leaning over him, his glare still fell upon the lowly prick with deadly intent, watching Miami wallow in filth, who's legs spread like a new whore in Mortytown.   
"I've been doing this shit far too long for some rookie-cop to tell me what's-what in the endless swallow of the universe," Miami spat. "You're crossing lines yo don't want to cross with me-"   
  


"Careful Rick, you might chip your stupid shades with a stare like that." Cop snapped, "and what you could possible do? We all know your bark's worse than your bite—you're just a lap dog to the citadel, chasing his own tail to be told he's just a _good boy_. Maybe to the rest of the Mortys that "   
Giving him a one-over, Cop grinned suddenly at the prominent sight of an unexpected package between Miami's legs. His eyes fell upon the exposed fullness of a restrained length, enticed by his find.  _How delightful_.   
Cop whistled as Miami blundered to retain some sort of dignity,"is that all it takes?"


End file.
